


The Shore

by CthulhuKittie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bartender!Cas, M/M, Masturbation, More tags to be added, Recreational Drug Use, surfer!dean, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7119850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CthulhuKittie/pseuds/CthulhuKittie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sand, surf, family and friends...Dean never felt as if he were missing anything in his life. Until he realized that he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hallemcready](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallemcready/gifts).



> Thank you Holli for the encouragement, beta read, and brainstorming <3

Dean was pleasantly buzzed, back pressed against the large piece of driftwood that had been dragged over to the bonfire as seating earlier in the evening. He stretched his legs out in front of him, bare feet stirring in  the sand, and enjoyed the warmth of the fire that was warding off the slight chill in the air due to being so close to the water.   
  
His brother Sam was across the circle from him in a slingback chair that he’d brought, a tiny brunette planted in his lap, her fingers brushing his long, wind blown hair from his face as he grinned at her. Dean smirked. Good for Sam.  
  
He let his head fall back, eyes closed, and tuned out all the party noise, concentrating on the sound of the surf rushing to the shore and easing back, letting it calm him the way nothing else could. Not drugs or alcohol or a warm body. Just the ebb and flow of the water and he could almost feel his body start to move on its own, swaying to the rhythm of the ocean.   
  
“Beer?” he heard from above and Dean cracked an eye open to find Charlie perched on the edge of the driftwood, a bottle in her outstretched hand.   
  
“Sure, why not,” he croaked, reaching up to take it and twist off the cap. He slipped a hand in his jacket pocket, fingers feeling around. Three...four...five beer caps. This was his last one, he decided. Then he needed to find a ride home since it looked like Sam would be too busy to drive him.  
  
“Never seen that guy before. D’ya know him?” Charlie asked, eyes cast to the left, and he looked in the same direction. The guy in question was hard to make out in the darkness, the bonfire casting shadows across his face. Something about him seemed familiar, but he didn’t linger on the thought too long.  
  
“Nah,” he said, taking a swig. “Jesus.” Dean grimaced at the taste of too warm beer. “This tastes like horse piss. How long has this been sitting out?” He set it down, twisting the bottle a bit in the sand to keep it from tipping over. “If that’s what’s left its definitely time to go home.”  
  
“Maybe you’d prefer this instead?” Charlie asked him, slipping a crushed pack of cigarettes from her pocket and producing a joint.  
  
He thought a moment, then nodded. “Yeah alright,” Dean said, pushing himself off the ground to sit beside her. Slipping a lighter from the inside of her shirt, she lit the end, taking a long drag, then passed it over. Dean pinched the joint between his fingers, blowing a bit of ash off the end before putting it to his lips.  
  
“He’s cute though right?” Charlie blew out a cloud of smoke and reached down to grab Dean’s now abandoned beer to take a drink.  
  
Dean side-eyed her, exhaling before he took another quick hit. “He’s on the wrong team isn’t he? Or are you switching?” He choked at the look at her face, lungs burning as he coughed harshly.  
  
Snatching the joint from his fingers, she elbowed him in the side. “You’re an idiot. I can appreciate a beautiful man, you know.”  
  
They passed the joint back and forth quietly for a few moments, Dean glancing over at the guy now and then. He wasn’t bad, Dean supposed. Dark hair, tousled from either wind or his own fingers that raked through it every now and then. He had a decent profile, strong jawline and his chin had a slight dimple. The guy was deep in conversation with Garth, a tourist who’d been coming to this town for so long, both on and off season, that he might as well be considered a local.   
  
“One of Garth’s friends maybe,” Dean grunted, eyes narrowing as he watched a huge smile spread across the guy’s face, nose scrunched in amusement. That sensation of familiarity rose up again, causing his scalp to tingle.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“I said maybe he’s one of Garth’s friends.” Dean gestured in their direction. “They seem to know each other.”  
  
Charlie hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. You want any more?”  
  
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks,” he said and Charlie nodded at him, stubbing it out on the driftwood. “I should probably get going anyway. Start looking for a ride,” Dean leaned over, grabbing his shoes and socks and nodded in Sam’s direction. “I think mine is gonna be occupied for a while.”  
  
“Yeah, he should watch out with that one,” Charlie giggled. “She’ll break that boy.”  
  
Dean barked out a laugh causing several people to look over. “Good," he said, brushing the sand from his jeans as he stood. “Thanks for the smoke. I’ll see you later?”  
  
“Yep. See ya, Dean.”  
  
“Night, Charlie," he said, swaying a bit on his feet.   
  
“You okay, Dean-o?” Garth called out to him as he was passing by and Dean stopped, holding up a finger, and then nodded.  
  
“Yep, I think so,” Dean replied, not sure at all. It had been a while since he’d smoked, and combined with his alcohol buzz, he was feeling a bit lightheaded.  
  
“You heading out?” Garth asked him.  
  
“As soon as I find a ride, yeah.” He hooked a thumb over shoulder. “Loverboy is kinda busy at the moment.”  
  
“I’d take ya, but I’ve had a few too many myself. Got my sleeping bag in the truck. May just sleep here tonight.”  
  
“It’s cool. I’ll just...I’m gonna sit.” Dean plopped down in the empty chair next to Garth and when he felt steady enough, he leaned in close. “Who’s your friend?”  
  
“This is Cas. Cas this is Dean.”  
  
“Hello, Dean.”  
  
“Hey. So, how long you in town for?”  
  
“Actually, I’ve just moved here. So for the forseeable future anyway.”  
  
“He bought Ellen’s old place,” Garth added.  
  
“Seriously?” Ellen’s old place was actually a bar called The Shore. It was a popular local hangout for many years until she was forced to close it after her husband died two years ago. “I didn’t even know she was looking to sell.”  
  
“She wasn’t really actively looking for a buyer,” Cas said with a shrug. “But my family knows hers. She knows I’ll take care of it.”  
  
Dean tried to clear his sloshy brain enough to figure out what family it could be. Everyone who lived here knew everyone else, and he definitely hadn’t seen this guy before, or even heard of someone named Cas. “Okay, I am _way_ too stoned for this conversation right now,” Dean declared with a shake of his head. “I gotta find a ride home. Or walk. I’ve got lessons tomorrow.”   
  
“I could give you a ride,” Cas offered. “I should be going as well.”  
  
“Uh, yeah that would be cool. If you don’t mind?”  
  
“Not at all. Whenever you’re ready.”  
  
Dean wobbled his way to his feet. “Lead the way.”  
  
~*~  
  
A few minutes later, Dean was slumped in the passenger seat Cas’ jeep, window upzipped, the air cool on his face, smelling of the ocean.  
  
“So what do you teach?”   
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“You said you had lessons tomorrow.”  
  
“Surfing,” he muttered, turning his head to look at Cas. Charlie wasn’t wrong, now that Dean could see him properly, though cute was a bit of an understatement. His eyes roamed over Cas’ face.   
  
Cas glanced over at him. “What?”  
  
“Just appreciating the view,” he said, laughing when Cas’ lips curved up slightly. “Sorry. I’m high. Ignore me.” He looked out the windshield, taking note of where they were. “Take a right up here.”   
  
Cas’ hand wrapped around the gear shift, forearm flexing as he downshifted to slow and make the turn, and Dean’s brain helpfully supplied an image of that same hand wrapped around his cock, muscles flexing as he jacked Dean off and he rubbed at his eyes, straightening in the seat as they pulled up to Dean’s house, dark except for the string of white lights across the porch.  
  
“This is nice,” Cas said. “Secluded.”  
  
It wasn’t huge, a small two bedroom, the outside painted a pale grey with a small, white front porch, but he’d had a hand in building most of it and he had private access to the beach. And most importantly, it was his. “It ain’t much, but yeah. I like it here.”  
  
Cas smiled at him. “It was nice to meet you, Dean. You should come by the bar once I open it.”  
  
Dean’s head bobbed. “Sure thing.” He popped the door open and slid out. “Thanks for the ride.”   
  
“No problem. Good night, Dean.”  
  
“Night.”  
  
Dean stumbled across the yard, fishing his keys from his front pocket, smiling to himself as he realized Cas hadn’t pulled out of the driveway yet. After fighting to get the key in the lock, he finally pushed the front door open, throwing a wave over his shoulder to let Cas know he was in and closed the door, watching the headlights bounce off the walls, then disappear, leaving him in darkness. It was so quiet and he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Dean kicked off his shoes, pulling his socks off as he made his way through the living room. When he reached the hallway, he yanked off his t-shirt, tossing it to the floor, then worked on unbuttoning his pants. By the time Dean reached the bedroom, they were unzipped and half falling down. He pushed open one of the windows, finished taking off his pants and underwear and collapsed onto the bed. His skin felt too small to contain him, as if it were stretched too tight and he might come apart at any moment. He ran his fingers up one arm, feeling the skin crawl pleasantly, and then wrapped one hand around his cock, giving it a few half-hearted strokes as he drifted off.  
  
~*~  
  
“I like the way you smell,” the voice whispered, nose trailing along the line of Dean’s jaw and down his neck. “Fresh air, the salt of the ocean.” Teeth nipped at the tender skin where his shoulder and neck met and he gasped. “And sweet from your sunblock."  
  
Hands traveled down his chest, the fingers of one rolling a nipple between them, and Dean’s teeth bit into his bottom lip to keep his cries contained. “Smoke and ash from the fire,” the voice continued, fingers relentless as they played, plucking and twisting at his nipple until Dean lay panting, cock throbbing between his legs.   
  
The hands moved then, traveling down his sides and across his stomach, trailing down from his belly button and he tensed, waiting for that first touch that would begin to ease the ache he felt in his dick, but the hands skirted around teasingly, flitting down his thighs and back up, circling, moving closer, but never going where he wanted them to.  
  
“Please touch me,” he begged, back pushing down into the bed as his hips arched up. “Please I need it.”  
  
“I know.” Fingers skimmed along the underside of his shaft and he clutched at the bed sheets with one hand, the other reaching out to touch the other person but he was unable to. His cock jerked and he whimpered.  
  
“Please, I’ll do anything.”  
  
“I know,” the voice repeated and at that first hint of warm pressure, that feeling of a hand wrapping around his shaft, he cried out, long and loud, completely unashamed at how much he wanted it... _needed_ it.


End file.
